The Sarpeidon Chronicles 4: Paradise Deferred
by LoriP
Summary: Spock and Zarabeth's son returns from exile, bringing with him a person his father never expected to see again. An All Our Yesterdays continuation with a little This Side of Paradise tossed into the mix. COMPLETE.
1. Part 4, Ch 1

The Sarpeidon Chronicles Part 4: Paradise Deferred  
  
Chapter1  
  
Elias shivered as an unexpectedly chilly gust skittered across the encampment. The bare wooden porch of his newly constructed cabin offered plenty of space for lounging, but little protection from the elements. In the old days, harsh wind and scorching heat alike had never bothered him; now, his aging body responded even to this minor discomfort by hunching over and shuddering deeply. Elias loathed his own display of infirmity, just as he resented the profusion of aches and pains that assaulted his bones more and more frequently now.  
  
And, of course, she was there to witness his descent into decrepitude. For so long, she'd served as a colleague, a friend, an equal. Now she reminded him of a daughter - possibly even a granddaughter - trying to ease his journey into dotage.  
  
As he expected, she hovered over him as if she were trying to shield him from the chill.   
  
"You'll grow cold, Elias," she warned, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You ought to go in, or I could bring out your coat."  
  
Much as he hated to give in, Elias had to admit that the prospect of his bed, with its thick quilts and the overstuffed pillows he'd brought with him from their last colony, exerted a powerful appeal. "Perhaps I will go in. It's getting late." With a sigh, he heaved himself to his feet. As he turned to go inside, a flicker of light and movement caught his attention. With an amused nod, he indicated the edge of the clearing, where a solitary figure stretched out in front of the small but vigorous fire he'd built.   
  
"There's a man with the right idea. Enjoying the open sky and the fruit of his own labor. None of these flimsy hideaways for him. Years ago, that would have been me out there. Now a little breeze drives the old man indoors."  
  
"Don't let him hear you call your shelter flimsy," she reminded him, amused. "He built it for you himself, remember?"  
  
"Of course I do. I've been watching him ever since he first arrived. An interesting young man, don't you think? Clearly he's no manual laborer, however he chooses to present himself to us."  
  
"Yes," she agreed, her own attention wandering to the flames. "The same thought occurred to me."  
  
Elias shrugged. "Well, we all have our secrets, I suppose. Good night, then."  
  
She patted the old man's arm with affection and watched him slip inside his cabin. Then, after only a moment's hesitation, she walked across the rocky soil toward the fire.  
  
She wasn't at all surprised when he didn't look up, his mind obviously solar systems removed from Gamma Aurelius. Since he'd come to them four months earlier, he'd been invaluable to the group, throwing himself into his work with the strength of three men and the intense drive of one much older than his professed 23 years. Thanks primarily to his efforts, their settlement had begun to take shape much sooner than they'd ever imagined.   
  
Yet they knew nothing of him, other than his age and that he spoke in an unusually well educated manner. His features suggested a Vulcan or Romulan origin, though his human side seemed to dictate his behavior. As might be expected in such a small society with so few entertainments, curiosity about the newcomer had run rampant. So far, none of them had made even the slightest progress toward penetrating the mystery.  
  
For some reason, however, she believed that she could. Jarrod was half her age, but from the beginning, she'd been able to talk to him as though he were a much older man. Though they'd only talked half a dozen times or less, and never about anything too important, he felt oddly familiar to her.  
  
He barely glanced up as she claimed a spot beside him. "Do you mind if I share your fire for a few minutes?" she asked. "It's getting chilly, but I'm not ready to go in yet."   
  
"If you want," he said with a shrug. "Isn't the whole idea of a colony to share our resources?"  
  
"I suppose that's one interpretation. Others see our purpose differently."  
  
"Of that I have no doubt. Here." Reaching into an open satchel on the ground beside him, he pulled out a pair of metal cups and set them between the rocks. "I was just boiling up some T'leffin root tea. That should warm you quite nicely."  
  
"Thank you." She waited while he retrieved a small kettle from the middle of the flames and poured them each a mugful of steaming liquid. The pungent, smoky aroma invaded her senses with such force that she felt light-headed for a moment. "You like it strong, I see."  
  
"Believe it or not, I once managed to live off that stuff for weeks. I learned to boil it right down to the nub. It can be surprisingly filling. Besides, there's no point in drinking muddy water. Might as well get all the flavor you can out of it."  
  
"You've traveled a great deal, then, and not under ideal conditions."  
  
"Let's just say my survival instinct runs very strong. I'm not afraid of much."  
  
"You're not afraid of hard work, we've all noticed that," she said with open admiration. "Unlike some of our volunteers, you actually seem to enjoy it."  
  
"I find it refreshing to use doors you have to open by hand - or build yourself."  
  
"I take it you come from a more technologically enhanced civilization?"  
  
"No offense, ma'am, but I make it a point never to talk about my origins."  
  
"None taken, as long as you don't call me ma'am. I grant I have a few years on you, but you make me feel like the schoolmistress. And that's one position I have never aspired to."  
  
"Sorry. I guess flattery is one thing I do find intimidating. Must be the one-quarter Vulcan in me."  
  
"Yes, I thought you were part Vulcan. Yet you show emotion."  
  
"Yes, I do - usually to my detriment. Do you know many Vulcans?"  
  
Hastily she gulped her tea. "No. Not really, not for a long time. Just chance meetings here and there."  
  
"Well, Vulcans are another subject I'd prefer not to discuss. Tell me about your work here in the colony. How long have you been at it?"  
  
"Actually, I've helped start more than a dozen colonies over the last thirty years. I started out as a research botanist, but now I specialize in genetically engineering crops and so on. It's turned out to be a very useful skill as far as making the most of our very limited resources."  
  
"Thirty years! Forgive me, but you don't look that old."  
  
"There, you see? You can flatter as well as anyone when you put your mind to it. As a matter of fact, I started when I was about your age." She laughed. "So maybe you should call me ma'am, after all."  
  
He shook his head, and a hollow look momentarily stole into his eyes. "Your research sounds very noble. Satisfying. I myself was once destined for a scientific career - but it, like many other things, was not to be."  
  
"Then Elias was right. You are an educated man."  
  
He looked relieved to change the subject. "Elias. Now there's an amazing man, speaking of age. He must be what, eighty? Yet his energy never flags."  
  
"He loves his work, as do I. But tell me, Jarrod. Why are you building huts when there's so much more you could do with yourself?" She saw him tense up, and instantly regretted her words. "If you don't want to answer me, that's all right. But I had to ask."  
  
"I'm sorry. I don't mean to be rude. Let's just say I was looking for a way to atone for some past mistakes. Have you ever done something so terribly wrong that you don't know how to make up for it?"  
  
"Hasn't everyone?"  
  
"I don't know. It's a matter of degree, I suppose. What one person can live with might well seem heinous to another. Let me ask you something now - what's the worst thing you've ever done?"  
  
She thought for a moment, turning the cup around in her hands. "With me, I think it's less what I did than what I didn't - options I should have taken, things I should have said."  
  
"Well, that's very different from my situation. Very different."  
  
"So that's why you build huts instead of working in the lab?"  
  
"Working with my hands frees my mind to consider my problems from fresh angles. Does that make sense?"  
  
"Actually, it does. I feel the same way when I'm working with my plants. Maybe you'd like to help me sometime."  
  
"Yes, I think I would. I have a certain affinity for that field of study, you know. The house I grew up in had a magnificent garden. When my family left that world, it became a public park of some kind. I can still remember feeling safe there."  
  
"Then you do have a family to go back to."  
  
"Yes, I do. Or at least I did, when I left them five years ago." His eyes narrowed as if he were in physical pain. "But I have not been able to contact them since then, for many reasons."  
  
"I thought it might be something like that."  
  
He finished his tea in one hard swallow. "I'm sure it's no secret that I chose this planet because it's so far from the Federation's reach, and because no one here is too interested in checking identification documents. Besides, if I did forget myself and confess my family name to you or anyone else, it would hardly do you any good. Even my mother could hardly say it correctly after almost 20 years. I won't put you through the embarrassment."  
  
When she didn't respond, his lips curled in a wry grin.  
  
"You're very quiet all of a sudden. Have I shocked you?"  
  
"No, no. It's just that another Vulcan said something very similar to me a long time ago."  
  
"There you are. It's a social obstacle I share with all of my paternal ancestors."  
  
This time, when she met his eyes, she knew.  
  
Leila Kalomi promptly dropped her entire mug of tea into the fire.  
  
---  
  
"Thank you for bringing Lidia home." Zarabeth ushered her daughter's Vulcan language tutor and his teenaged son into the house.  
  
"Not at all. I was in no hurry to end our dialogue." Sumarr gave a slight bow. "Your daughter is a fine student of her ancestral language. Besides, it is good practice for my son. He is somewhat less inclined to study than I might wish. Selyk, present yourself."  
  
Reluctantly, the young man stepped forward and nodded with a distracted air.  
  
"Lidia shares her father's dedication to learning," Zarabeth said. "I'm afraid that I preferred more fanciful pursuits at her age."  
  
"You seem to expect my disapproval, madam."  
  
"Isn't it the primary function of a tutor to disapprove of everything? I admit it's been some time since I had one of my own, but my most vivid memories are of being scolded."   
  
"How unfortunate. My own approach to education is far less draconian. I believe that the mind, like the body, can benefit from different styles of exercise, even if they appear frivolous to some."   
  
"Clearly, you were not schooled on Vulcan."   
  
Sumarr turned to find that Spock had joined them. "Greetings, Ambassador. As it happens, I was not. Circumstances forced me to leave our home planet many years ago. As a result, I was able to explore different approaches to the traditional objectives of Vulcan education." Again he offered a respectful tilt of his head. "Besides, if your wife finds pleasure in whimsical pursuits, who am I to discourage her?"  
  
"Actually, it is no simple matter to discourage her from anything."  
  
"Then my plan has an additional merit: it prevents the unnecessary exertion of energy. Besides, you might be surprised to learn that things have changed since you and I were schoolboys. The Federation's influence has had a softening effect even on our traditional ways."  
  
"Perhaps that was inevitable. Might I ask from which area of Vulcan you originate?" Spock asked.  
  
"My birthplace was a remote village in the Sehhlann mountains. However, my elders quickly discovered that I had a talent for learning, so I was sent to school on a Federation base at a rather tender age. Do you know the area, Ambassador?"  
  
"I do. My father and I traveled there when I was a young child. However, all I remember clearly is being scolded for plucking the fruit of the Kaa'roch tree without permission. The harvest was in progress at the time."  
  
"A temptation irresistible to children from any region. I hope you were not too severely punished. Well, my son and I must take our leave now. I have lectures to prepare for tomorrow's classes, and he must review a number of grammatical points on which Lidia stumped him this afternoon. Selyk, make your farewells and let us be off."  
  
Self-consciously, the boy muttered a few words in hesitant Vulcan and averted his eyes.  
  
"Perhaps, if her parents have no objection, Lidia will see you to the gate," Sumarr prompted his son. "I will join you there in a moment."  
  
Lidia glanced from Spock to Zarabeth. Seeing that neither of them objected, she motioned Selyk to follow her outside.  
  
"I ask that you forgive Selyk for his abruptness," Sumarr said after the two of them had left. "He does not wish to appear ill-mannered, but I fear his conversational skills are not as adept as Lidia's. It is a source of some embarrassment to him, particularly in the presence of other Vulcans."  
  
"No offense taken," Zarabeth assured him. "We are not unfamiliar with the temperament of young men." A fleeting look of sadness followed her words, a reaction she quickly attempted to shake off.  
  
Sumarr nodded in sympathy. "Yes, I understand you, too, have a son close to his age. Lidia speaks often of her brother, though she has apparently not seen him for some time."  
  
"That is true," Spock put in quickly. "He has spent the last few years traveling."  
  
"How well I remember my own youthful urge to roam the galaxy. Fortunately, Selyk shares my appreciation for the comforts of a stable home. My days would be quite empty without his companionship."  
  
"I often feel the same way," Zarabeth confessed. "Yet, somehow, we manage."  
  
"Indeed." Sumarr bowed again. "I will take my leave of you, then, and look forward to our next meeting."  
  
From the window, Zarabeth watched Lidia escort father and son down the flora-strewn path that led to the front gate.  
  
"Sumarr seems a very cultured man. I like him." Noticing Spock's tightly drawn expression, she frowned. "Don't you?"  
  
"He is not what he claims to be."  
  
"What makes you say that?"   
  
"On Vulcan, it is the Kaa'roch plant's bark that is harvested, not its fruit. Any true native of the mountains would know that."  
  
"I'm sure there's an explanation. He said he'd been away a long time, after all. Perhaps his memory is not as good as yours."  
  
"Perhaps. I doubt it."  
  
Zarabeth turned back to the scene outside, less complacent as Lidia took formal leave of Sumarr, then paused and exchanged a few casual words with Selyk. Both mother and daughter scrutinized the teenaged boy with interest.   
  
Selyk was slighter of build, and more delicately featured than Jarrod. His impassive demeanor and distant, almost distracted air seemed far removed from the intense brooding that had constantly darkened her firstborn's face. In many ways, Selyk bore a greater resemblance to their second son, Kai, who had inherited his father's disposition as surely as the others had inherited hers.  
  
Yet, when she looked at Selyk, it was Jarrod she thought of, and Jarrod's absence she mourned.  
  
She didn't have to tell Spock what she was thinking about; now, as always, it was as if he knew her thoughts before she'd even finished forming them.  
  
"Will he ever come back?" she asked, her voice heavy with pain. "It's been so long."  
  
"Yes," Spock said after only a moment's consideration. "He will." 


	2. Part 4, Ch 2

Chapter 2  
  
Even before the ground speeder drew up in front of the house, Jarrod knew they'd made a terrible mistake. Instead of the placid twilight setting in which he'd planned to make his entrance, the entire front of his family's dwelling was illuminated, and the hum of music and voices chattering in diverse languages carried on the still air. Even the lawn and terrace were bustling as well-dressed being from a variety of worlds crossed to and from the main entrance.  
  
Reaching forward, he signaled their hired pilot to stop well short of the main entrance, which was already crowded with other transport vessels waiting to deposit passengers.  
  
"I can't believe this," he murmured. "We've stumbled into a diplomatic reception!"  
  
"I take it that's not a common occurrence at your house?" Leila peered out at the unfolding scene with open curiosity.  
  
"I should say not. My father holds them only when he can't get out of it. There must be some important dignitary passing through this system." Drawing back into his seat, Jarrod blanched. "That means Starfleet officials will also be in attendance. A public arrest on my doorstep wasn't quite the homecoming I had in mind."  
  
"You won't be arrested. Wouldn't diplomatic immunity apply on the grounds of an Embassy house?"  
  
"I don't know. I had planned to talk to my parents in private before I turned myself in. After all, I think I've embarrassed them enough. Let's turn around and go back to the hotel. This was a terrible idea."  
  
"Jarrod, please. We've just spent five days changing from one shuttlecraft to another, and you want to run away the moment we reach our destination? Besides, no one will be looking for you-why would they?" He remained glum as she squeezed his hand. "Maybe this is the best thing that could have happened. Think about it-this way you can blend into the crowd, assess the situation before you do anything irreversible."  
  
He frowned at her. "Are you suggesting we crash a formal Embassy gathering?  
  
"I'm suggesting that we find a discreet way in...and see what happens from there."  
  
Slowly, his head came up. "I guess we could try. It would be a shame to waste five days of travel, especially when you didn't have to come with me."  
  
"In a way, I think I did. This wasn't the kind of trip anyone should make alone."  
  
He didn't speak as they exited the speeder and warily inserted themselves into a contingent of jovial humanoids who were moving toward the house as a unit. From their slightly nervous manner, and the overly eager tone of their conversation, Jarrod decided that the strangers were lower-level, off-duty Embassy personnel. Little danger of any of them recognizing him, he decided; on the contrary, they seemed to accept both him and Leila as members of their group. He nodded good-naturedly as one of the women turned and included him in a harangue against someone called Commander Berkley, apparently her supervisor in some clerical division.  
  
"Even if someone does try to verify our identities, we should be safe," Leila reassured him. "Years ago, I represented one of Elias' colonies at an interplanetary caucus. My credentials should still be in order. I'll tell them you're my secretary."  
  
"I think it would be wiser to avoid any such inquiries altogether."   
  
She murmured her agreement as they continued to move with the others, drifting across the grounds and finally up a wide stone staircase, so highly polished that it seemed to glow under their feet. At the top, an equally dazzling terrace stretched the entire length of the house. Huge potted plants with umbrella-like leaves stood sentry over buffet tables heaped with alien delicacies of every conceivable description. Guests milled freely about, sampling the food and chatting over the exotic, atonal hum that carried on the warm night air.  
  
"That's an odd sound," Leila commented, tilting her head to listen. "What is it?"  
  
"If I'm not mistaken, it's called a Hrajillian Euphony-or at least that is how it is referred to among the Federation anthropologists who have studied their culture. Theirs is known as a passionately xenophobic culture, though I suppose they would simply say they value their privacy." He scowled. "I can't imagine why they'd be playing it here, now. Unless...could my father have persuaded them to apply for Federation membership? Is this party for their benefit?"  
  
"Whatever the reason, it should work to our advantage. Look around. There must be fifty people out here-we can blend in easily."   
  
"From the look of things, I'd also guess that we've arrived at the general reception. The VIPs must be hidden away in the inner sanctum somewhere." For the first time in five days, his face and posture visibly relaxed. "You're probably right. No one will notice me with everything else that's going on. I'll bet my parents won't even venture out here at all."  
  
It took a conscious effort for Leila to mask her disappointment over his last observation. For his sake, she smiled and patted his sleeve. "You see? I told you not to worry. Now you'll have plenty of time to decide what to do. And in the meantime, maybe we can find something to eat."  
  
"Let's see what we can do about that." Tucking her arm into his, he moved toward one of the buffet tables. Too late, he realized his mistake. Directly to his left hovered a tall, muscular Terran. Unlike almost everyone else on the terrace, he was in uniform: the sleek green and gold dress tunic that designated Embassy security.   
  
For a tense, endless moment, the two of them stood motionless as the guard's eyes shifted from Leila to Jarrod's face and then back again. They narrowed slightly, but nothing else in his expression changed.  
  
"He recognized me," Jarrod muttered as they moved hastily away. "Will he tell my parents?"  
  
Leila glanced back over her shoulder while Jarrod kept his own head down. "He hasn't left his post. Maybe you imagined it."  
  
"I know I didn't."  
  
"All right, then, come on. Let's move away while he's still making up his mind."  
  
Jarrod didn't object as she grabbed his hand and pulled him across the terrace, sliding between and around clusters of guests until they passed through an open pair of full-length doors. On the other side lay a spacious, glass-walled room lined with cushioned benches and smaller tables to facilitate more private conversations. Here were more guests, more comestibles. Again, thankfully, no one gave them a second glance.  
  
"Well, we made it inside the house," she murmured. His nervousness had returned; even through two layers of clothing, she could feel his muscles tightening. "What is this room?"  
  
"It's...a sort of lounge," he said, huddling close to the wall with her while he scanned the crowd cautiously. "During the day, my mother liked to come out here and enjoy the sunlight. In the evenings, when my father was away, my sisters and I would look out and try to guess which star he was closest to." His gaze drifted up to the ample skylight that dominated the high ceiling. "I have a feeling he was usually a lot farther away than we could even have imagined."  
  
For a moment, Leila thought she saw his eyes grow moist, but decided it was merely a trick of the artificial light.   
  
"It's a lovely place. You must have liked growing up here."  
  
"Actually, I spent most of my time fighting against everything this house-and my father-stood for." He winced. "What a fool I was."  
  
While Jarrod fell into a brooding silence, Leila took a few moments to examine their surroundings in more detail. Even after the many hours she'd spent helping her young friend decide to return to Amphitrite, and even after their many grueling hours of travel to that end, the scene that lay in front her still retained an almost surreal quality.  
  
Yet, somehow, she had to force herself to accept it. This was the home Spock had made for himself, the same home her younger and far more na•ve self had once envisioned sharing with him. Though the cool, sparse dŽcor reminded her very much of the man who had obsessed her so long ago, she also detected a feminine touch in the room. The clues were subtle: the overly casual placement of a flowering plant, a hanging piece of sentimental artwork no Vulcan would have favored. Gradually it dawned on her that Jarrod himself was a product of the same struggle between emotion and rigid Stoicism. Had he always been as conscious of it as she suddenly was?  
  
Leila turned back to him abruptly, before her own reverie could grow too distracting. "Surely you must have some positive memories of your life here," she prompted.   
  
This time, though, Jarrod couldn't hear her. He was staring, mesmerized, at a woman who had entered the room and was slowly working her way through the crowd.   
  
Leila felt herself go cold as a kind of fascinated horror stole through her. For a moment, it really seemed as if everything around her was moving in slow motion...including the tears, now unmistakable, that formed in Jarrod's dark eyes.  
  
"That's her," he whispered. His voice became little more than a groan. "My mother."   
  
Leila stood frozen beside him, watching Spock's wife move easily among the guests. Many of them appeared to know her, or at least fell quite easily into light conversation with her. She, in turn, seemed to sense exactly how much time she should spend with each person-or being-she greeted. Fortunately, she was too occupied with her duties to notice them huddling at the far end of the room.   
  
The necessity of retreat saved her from blurting something foolish or unguarded. Wordlessly, they slipped back onto the terrace, though they continued their surveillance from behind the open doors.  
  
Suddenly, both of them noticed something they hadn't seen before. Trailing alongside their hostess, and participating in the formal greeting process, was a very young Vulcan boy. Hands clasped behind his back, he wore an expression far too serious for his limited years.   
  
"That child." Jarrod barely managed to choke out the words. "I've never seen him before. Who could he be?"  
  
"You said you'd been away five years." As endearing as she found his naivete, Leila heard her own voice emerge thick with misery. Inwardly, she hated deceiving him, almost as much as she hated this spectacle and all it represented. Most of all, she hated the raw, burning envy that welled up in her throat. "Could he be your brother?"  
  
"That's impossible! My mother is in her fiftieth year, at least. That's too old to bear a child."   
  
In spite of herself, Leila stifled a laugh. "Jarrod, I can hardly believe that an intelligent-and scientifically trained-man like you could entertain such a preposterous fallacy. Certainly it's not common, but women your mother's age - and my own- can certainly do so given the proper medical attention. I expect a Federation starbase could provide just that."  
  
He looked both puzzled and contrite. "I'm sorry...I didn't mean to offend you. I suppose I'm more or less in shock."  
  
"I'm not offended. And I do understand." Her fingers sought his and squeezed them. "Perhaps you were right; we shouldn't have crashed the party. I'm beginning to feel highly conspicuous. Besides, ambushing your parents in the middle of all this would be cruel."  
  
"Maybe we should just leave without speaking to them at all."  
  
"I don't think that's what you want. Besides, we've come too far to simply turn around and go back. How about this: we stay out of sight until the party is over, then approach them in a more civilized manner? Surely you can find us a spot where we can blend in with all the other outsiders."   
  
His sullen gaze followed the happily oblivious perambulations of his mother.  
  
"All right. I guess I can manage that."  
  
"I thought you could. Besides, I still want to sample those refreshments. It's been hours since either of us had anything to eat. I admit I'm feeling a little faint."  
  
"I guess I am, too."   
  
His discomfort was emotional; Leila knew he expected her to understand that. She couldn't help thinking how much deeper his agony would be if he'd realized that her own distress had bubbled up from the same bitter well.  
  
- - -  
  
For the next hour or so, safely ensconced at a tiny table behind a pillar, they watched with a kind of numb fascination as the festivities progressed. At one point, Jarrod pointed out his sister, Lidia, who was walking beside a teenaged Vulcan who, despite his bored expression, appeared to be her suitor.   
  
"Apparently many things have changed since I've been away."  
  
"Life is like that, I'm afraid. And yet, sometimes, it all comes full circle again." Keeping a tall, luxurious potted plant between herself and the rest of the room, Leila performed another quick scan of the various faces. "I take it there's no sign of your father yet."  
  
"Not a one. Still, that doesn't necessarily surprise me. I suspect he's consulting with some important dignitary in more private surroundings. The truth is that he dislikes these functions, inasmuch as he can be said to actively dislike anything. Instead, he follows the Vulcan way-leaving these social duties to my mother."  
  
"She seems to be handling them well."  
  
He nodded. "It's a talent she comes by honestly. Before her imprisonment, it was expected that she would one day marry a man with political aspirations. Women on her world had fewer opportunities than they do here."  
  
"Then I suppose she's fulfilled her ambitions. That's much more than most of us can claim."  
  
He looked at her strangely, no doubt assuming she meant his own failed career with Starfleet. Despite his hurt, she couldn't bring herself to correct him; that might have led to other questions she didn't care to answer.  
  
"All the same, if the time ever comes, I'd hope my wife would expect a bit more of me than she does of my father."  
  
Leila considered his words with growing interest. "That's either very forward-thinking of you, Jarrod, or unbelievably presumptuous." Briefly, she looked off into the distance, losing herself in some admittedly ungracious thoughts. When she turned back to continue the conversation, he had disappeared from her side.  
  
It took her less than a heartbeat to understand why. In front of them, a large group of guests had suddenly dispersed, leaving her corner of the table utterly exposed. In the very same instant, his mother was crossing the terrace and heading straight toward her.  
  
To Leila's unspeakable relief, her expression gave no sign that she had recognized her son. Instead, she approached Leila as she might have approached any other guest left alone to daydream over an empty plate.  
  
"Can I get you something?"  
  
At last, Leila found herself staring directly into a face she'd tried to visualize, in precise detail, for months. Not surprisingly, reality bore only a passing resemblance to her private conjectures. The vivid red hair Jarrod had talked so wistfully about was rather generously threaded with grey, and the genuine warmth behind Zarabeth's smile caught her wholly off guard. Resenting this woman was going to be more difficult than she'd anticipated.  
  
"Actually...I'd just about kill for a white wine. I haven't seen any all evening."  
  
"That's because some of the attending cultures have an ethical objection to intoxicants. I'm afraid we're limited to fruit extracts and non-alcoholic synthetics."  
  
Leila sighed. "Well, I'll make do. Thank you for asking, though."  
  
"Wait a moment. Maybe I can come up with something."  
  
As Zarabeth walked back to the reception, Leila heard a fierce hiss behind her. She turned to see Jarrod desperately flattening himself behind the hedges that bordered the terrace's stone rail.  
  
"Leila, what are you doing? Get out of there-quickly!"  
  
"How can I? She said she was coming right back!"  
  
And she did. Jarrod ducked back out of sight as his mother hovered only a few short meters from his hiding place.  
  
"There you are, white wine in a juice glass. Be sure to pour out any that's left over and don't tell anyone."  
  
"I promise. Thanks."  
  
"Normally I wouldn't break protocol, but you looked like you needed that."  
  
"You have no idea."  
  
"So, which bureau are you with? Or are you from Starfleet?"  
  
Leila tasted the wine slowly, buying enough time to formulate a casual answer. "Actually, a friend with connections to the Embassy invited me here. I hope you don't mind."  
  
"Of course not. This side of the party is more or less open to all base personnel, anyway. The official reception is going on behind closed doors."  
  
Exactly as Jarrod had predicted, she thought. "So that's where the Ambassador is hiding." She couldn't quite bring herself to say 'your husband.' "I'd expected him to be out here, giving you a hand."  
  
"It's all right. The Embassy felt it necessary to arrange some sort of gathering in their honor, but in truth, they have no desire to mingle with the rest of us. This seemed an adequate compromise. Besides, my duties out here are more to my liking, and those inside are more to his."  
  
"You did have an assistant earlier, I noticed. A very small one."  
  
"Yes, that was my younger son. It was getting late, so I asked my daughter to take him to his room. He didn't appreciate that, since he's never quite acknowledged that he is still a child."  
  
"I see."  
  
"You're from Earth?"  
  
"Yes, though I haven't been back there in many years. Have you?"  
  
"Just once, briefly. It was several years ago." Hastily she redirected the conversation. "However, I do find Earth quite interesting, since my own world was similar to yours in many ways. Those who study such things even believe that both worlds were originally colonized by the same progenitors. So perhaps we have more in common than we realize."  
  
"You're probably quite right about that."  
  
Soon Zarabeth left Leila to her wine and moved on to deal with the first wave of departing guests. When it was safe to do so, Jarrod emerged from behind the rail, his clothes flecked with leaves and twigs. He brushed at them with irritation.  
  
"That trip to Earth she mentioned-that was to install me at Starfleet Academy. I was embarrassed to have them there. Apparently they haven't forgotten how I let them down."  
  
"You may have heard what she said, but you didn't see they way she said it. She misses you terribly, I can promise you that. You have to reveal yourself to them, Jarrod. Tonight."  
  
"I don't know. Once Starfleet knows I'm here, I may still have prison to look forward to. My father would never harbor a fugitive, even his own son, and my mother wouldn't keep my presence a secret from him."  
  
She shook her head. "But we already agreed that this was for the best. You can either face what you've done, or hide on Gamma Aurelius for the rest of your very protracted Vulcan life. Eventually, there won't be any more cabins for you to build. Then what?"  
  
That familiar defiance flashed and faded in his eyes. "As you say...we've already decided. I suppose I am too much a Vulcan to go back on a promise, even one made only to myself."  
  
"We'll wait until everyone else is gone. Is there a place we can stay totally out of sight for a while?"  
  
"I grew up here, remember? I made it a point to discover an entire network of places like that. Now...how would you feel about climbing over this railing with me?"  
  
"I'd say I've had just enough wine to attempt it without a second's hesitation."  
  
"Good."  
  
As she followed him through the scratchy shrubs and then off into the dark, she decided that the next hour or so was going to rank among the slowest-moving of her life.  
  
- - -  
  
Having seen off the last of their visitors, including the reclusive Hrajillian contingent, Spock and Zarabeth watched as Embassy aides attached transponders to the ravished buffet tables and the extra furniture that had been brought in for the party. Piece by piece, the debris and the aides themselves began to shimmer and dissolve, on their way back to the base. All that remained were a few insignificant clean-up tasks that could easily be left for the following day.   
  
"On the whole, a fairly subdued group," Zarabeth said. "You were right about the drinks. I only hope the Hrajillians appreciated the sacrifice everyone made on their behalf."  
  
"In fact, they were most impressed with what they observed of human behavior. Perhaps they are not as culturally advanced as I had previously supposed."  
  
"Well, I'd suggest leaving that observation out of your official report."  
  
"Agreed. However, they did make one observation that would tend to support the Federation's assessment of their perceptive abilities. They complimented me on my choice of a wife."  
  
"I hope you thanked them for me."  
  
"Their manner of discourse does not require that one be thanked merely for speaking the truth. I did find it both expedient and accurate to concur." Spock seemed about to say something more when he paused and tilted his head to the left. "Zarabeth...have all the guests left the premises?"  
  
"Yes, your staff saw to that as far as I know. Why do you ask?"  
  
"Because I just heard someone walk past the staircase."  
  
"One of the children, perhaps."  
  
"I do not believe that is the case."  
  
She, too, fell silent and listened. Sure enough, the heavy footsteps his sensitive Vulcan hearing had detected grew louder as an unknown individual approached the door that separated the rest of the house.   
  
"You are correct, Mother," said Jarrod as he entered the room in one swift, forceful movement. "It is indeed one of the children." 


	3. Part 4, Ch 3

Chapter 3  
  
Heedless of Spock's disapproval, mother and son clung to one another and surrendered to an unrestrained display of blatant emotionalism.  
  
"How long have you been here?" she asked when they finally, reluctantly tugged apart. "And how did you get in?"  
  
"I arrived just this evening. Fortunately, you never changed the security combination for the back door. I simply crawled into a quiet spot and waited out the end of your party."  
  
"It would be more accurately called an official function than a party," Spock observed. "However, the unaltered code was intentional."  
  
"We hoped you'd use it again someday. And now you have."   
  
"And now I have," Jarrod repeated. Slowly, his expression became more serious. "Father, I am aware that Starfleet has expressed a desire to confer with me in an official capacity. It is my intention to turn myself in for voluntary arrest once I have had an opportunity to visit with my sisters. I would ask that you give me a few hours tomorrow before you contact Captain Taylor...or whoever has taken charge of my case since I left."  
  
Zarabeth took his hand. "You don't need to worry about that anymore. Therov was captured almost two years ago, turned in by his own people when he tried to stir up trouble among the Andorians. Michaela - and it's Commodore Taylor now, by the way - finally managed to close the case against you."  
  
"I'm free? They don't even wish to question me?" He shook his head in disbelief. "Captain Taylor always would do anything for you, Mother."  
  
"Nonsense. She did it for you. Besides, the people in charge of such things decided that you were more Therov's victim than his confederate. And it was because of you that no one was injured at the Terraforming conference. We wanted to tell you all this a long time ago, but we had no way to contact you."  
  
"I know," he said quietly. "I've purposely stayed beyond the reach of news. There are many things I need to catch up on. For example, that boy I saw earlier- is he my brother?" Despite an obvious effort, he could not keep a note of hurt from his voice.  
  
"Yes. He's named for your father, but we call him Kai. Actually it's what he chooses to call himself. It sort of stuck."  
  
"He is my replacement, then."  
  
"Jarrod! Of course not!"  
  
"Then he does not occupy my old room?"  
  
"Well, yes, but - "  
  
"After the third year of your absence, it became necessary to make more efficient use of that particular space," Spock broke in firmly. "Lidia has retained her own room, but Adonia is currently away at Starfleet Academy. You may use hers pending other arrangements."  
  
"Adonia is at Starfleet?" Jarrod's cheeks flushed. He shook his head angrily. "Actually, it won't be necessary for you to put me up. I traveled here with a friend, and the two of us have taken rooms in the city."  
  
His parents exchanged wondering looks. "You've brought someone with you?" Zarabeth asked with obvious surprise.  
  
"Yes. For nearly a year, I have been helping to build and establish a Federation colony on a small planet known as Gamma Aurelius. The people there, and one in particular, offered me a degree of acceptance I have found nowhere else. In fact, it was she who convinced me to return and settle things here." Briefly, he ducked out of the room and motioned to someone waiting just outside the door. "Leila?"  
  
Moments later, Leila stood beside him, facing his parents. Not for the first time when it came to dealing with his father, Jarrod found himself puzzled. When he had shown himself after an absence of five long years, Spock had seemed only mildly, and distantly, surprised. For some reason, the sight of Leila Kalomi left him in a state of utter astonishment.  
  
- - -  
  
After a sleepless half-night in their adjoining rented rooms, the two of them returned to find Spock waiting in the entry hall. His Vulcan demeanor was firmly in place again, Jarrod noticed.  
  
"Your mother and Lidia are waiting for you inside," Spock informed him without preamble. "Miss Kalomi, I would like to speak to you in my study."  
  
She followed him without argument or the slightest show of anxiety-not the usual reaction his father inspired among strangers, Jarrod thought as he hesitantly set off in the opposite direction.   
  
"Is this a formal inquiry, Ambassador?" she asked as he directed her to a seat facing his desk.  
  
"If you wish to think of it that way."  
  
"Perhaps I'll reserve judgment until our conversation is underway."  
  
"As you wish." Settling into his own high-backed chair, he steepled his fingers and regarded her warily. "I shall begin by thanking you for convincing Jarrod to return to Amphitrite. His absence has long been a source of great distress to my wife."  
  
"Yes, I can imagine. But not to you?"  
  
Not to her surprise, he declined to answer. Instead, he parried her question with one of his own.  
  
"Tell me how you came to be acquainted with my son."  
  
"It was very much as he said. He became a member of our colony, and he and I became friends. At first, I had no idea who he was. Then, gradually, the details began to emerge. I must admit that even before he mentioned your name, I knew he was your son. Maybe that's because I'd so often imagined what our own son might have been like. He wasn't far different from what I'd envisioned."  
  
"I see." He averted his eyes. "Then I may assume you have become a kind of maternal figure to him during his absence from home. Commendable, considering his age and occasional want of judgment."  
  
"No, it wasn't-and isn't-really like that, either. Perhaps in some sense I did remind him of his mother. He spoke of her often. More than he spoke of you, in fact."  
  
"Then he is unaware of our previous connection."  
  
"There never seemed to be a time, or a way, to tell him. I take it you've said nothing to your wife, either."  
  
"If she-or either of them-should ask, I cannot mislead them. However, I have not decided it whether will become necessary to offer the information freely."  
  
"How would they even think to ask? It's so outrageously unlikely-assuming that you and I don't exchange any indiscreet comments or looks."  
  
"Agreed. And, since that is highly unlikely to occur, our present concern may in fact be groundless."  
  
"I'm glad you're so confident about that." Leila sighed. "I really did want his return to be a happy occasion for both sides."  
  
"If that is true, your intentions would appear to contradict your actions. As an emotional being yourself, you must have realized that coming here while concealing your true identity could produce an unfortunate result."  
  
"I haven't concealed my identity from anyone-only certain details of my history. With that one exception, your son knows everything about me. As for my coming here, even if the others did know, what is the harm in my visiting a friend I haven't seen in more than thirty years? I would think your diplomatic training impressed upon you the value of maintaining as many long-term social connections as possible."  
  
"Then I see no reason not to reveal our the circumstances of our previous acquaintance at once."  
  
She studied the edge of his desk. "If that is what you intend to do, I have no means of stopping you. However, I might remind you of what you said only a few minutes ago. Your son is both young and impulsive. Do you really want to put him in the position of resenting us both when he hasn't even been home for a full day yet?" When he didn't answer, she pressed on. "Besides, why do you insist on seeing this as all my doing? Obviously you've never mentioned me either, or my name would have been familiar to both of them."  
  
"There seemed no need."  
  
"So why can't I simply lay claim to the same defense? Let's face it, Spock, we don't have much choice but to carry on as if we're strangers to one another, at least for now. If circumstances change, we'll just have to come up with another way out."  
  
"The feasibility of the strategy you suggest rather depends on how long you plan to stay here. May I inquire...?"  
  
"For the moment, I've left my work on Gamma Aurelius in other hands. However, I will have to get back there within the space of a few weeks. Whether Jarrod decides to return with me is another question entirely."  
  
She could tell by the way his mouth narrowed that he could come up with no less volatile solution.   
  
"It wouldn't really be a lie, anyhow. The last time we saw each other, we really were different people, living vastly different lives. The things we spoke of then would be meaningless today."  
  
"Perhaps so."  
  
He agreed a bit too quickly and easily for her comfort, though she was careful not to let her disappointment show. "Why don't we put it in the best possible light? It will be like reenacting a chapter from our past. Not everyone gets the chance to start fresh."  
  
"That may be for the best. There are those who would be unable to accept that the outcome of such a reenactment must be different."  
  
"Then I seen we are complete agreement."  
  
And they were, she decided as she got up to leave the room. He was as literally minded as ever, leaving the nuances of interpretation to her.  
  
- - -  
  
While Lidia and Kai dawdled over their morning meal, Zarabeth took Jarrod into the sitting room and played Adonia's latest hololetter from Starfleet Academy for him. She looked graceful and confident in her cadet's uniform, which seemed to fit her so much better than his had ever fit him. According to her narrative, she was making excellent progress in all subjects except, ironically enough, advanced conversational Vulcan. Midterms were another six weeks away, and after that, assuming she passed them, a short leave would be permissible.  
  
"I hope you'll be able to see her then," his mother hinted. "She has never stopped asking about you."  
  
Indeed, the hololetter closed with an inquiry about her missing brother, asking if any news had been received. Jarrod couldn't help but blush with guilt and affection.  
  
"The last time I saw her, she was sobbing over Therov. I can hardly believe that is the same person. And, believe it or not, I'm glad she was able to succeed in Starfleet. Father must be thrilled."  
  
"He is, though he'd never use that word."  
  
"I suppose he didn't use it when my brother arrived, either."  
  
"Of course not, though in that case, it seemed appropriate. They were certainly cut from the same genetic cloth-just as I've always believed you and I were."  
  
"He is a very serious child," said Jarrod, glancing through the open door into the next room. His younger brother stared back, his expression never changing. "I thought he'd more curious about the brother he never knew he had."  
  
"Now that is unfair, Jarrod." His mother's voice suddenly grew stern. "Of course he knew about you all along. We have never denied your existence to anyone."  
  
"No doubt you used me as an example of what he should not become. Fortunately, it worked, and he will not disappoint you as I did."  
  
Agitated, he made a move to get up, but she grabbed his sleeve and pulled him back to face her again. "I can understand your resentment, even your jealousy. But did you expect us all to stop living because you had gone away? I'm sorry, but we didn't. I did think of you every morning, and again at night. But my life continued. So did your father's, and both your sisters'. What choice did we have?"  
  
"I understand," he said coldly.  
  
"Do you? Kai was a surprise to us, too. But we were glad to have him - maybe because he did remind us of you. But he was never intended to take your place."  
  
"I guess I just didn't think things would change this much."  
  
"Things change every day. It's inevitable. That doesn't mean we stopped missing you."  
  
"I never did, either," Jarrod admitted. "Some nights, I wanted to come home so badly that I almost imagined I was here. I could see everything, even the shadows on the wall. I could smell the soil in the garden, the must in the boathouse."  
  
"That's what exile is like. I could have told you, if you'd asked before you left."  
  
"I was a coward. I couldn't face prison. And I knew what it would do to you."  
  
"All right. Let's not speak of that again. You're home now- for however long - and you're free. Whatever mistakes you made, you must have made up for them."  
  
"I don't know. I hope so."  
  
"Besides, we're not the only ones who are different now. It's not just that you're older. It's that you're-I don't know-more at ease with yourself. I suppose I can guess one reason for that." "You mean Leila." A bit of color crept back into his cheeks. "She's been a good friend to me. I can tell her most anything, and she seems to know what I should do."  
  
"That might be because she's twice your age."  
  
His head came up quickly, eyes flashing with that familiar rebelliousness. "You and she are of an age; do you consider yourself too old for me to talk to?"  
  
"Don't be disrespectful." She tried not to smile.  
  
"I'm sorry. About that and other things." He leaned over to kiss her. "I'm glad you were happy in my absence, Mother. Knowing I had made you miserable would have made my lot that much harder."  
  
"I'm happier now that you're back."  
  
"As am I. Do you mind if I go and find Leila? I feel guilty leaving her alone so long while Father interrogates her-about what, I can't imagine."  
  
"My guess would be you. But go ahead. He'll have to forgive the interruption."  
  
"I'll be back later to speak to Father. I just can't face that right now. And maybe we can respond to Adonia's hololetter together."  
  
"All right. Let's plan on both."  
  
To Jarrod's relief, he found that Leila was no longer with Spock, but had wandered back onto the terrace where the reception had been held. When he got closer, he noticed that she was talking to the teenaged Vulcan boy he had seen with his sister the night before. His mother had filled him in on that developing situation; he only hoped that Selyk would not insist on conversing with him in Vulcan. Like Adonia, he had neither an innate love nor talent for his ancestral tongue.  
  
As he approached, Leila let drop the enormous leaf of a potted plant she'd been inspecting. As she drew her hand away, a high-pitching hum filled the air.  
  
"Selyk was just showing me some of Amphitrite's more interesting flora," she explained. "I don't believe I've ever encountered sound-emitting blooms before."  
  
"They're quite annoying during their pollinating season. Still, one has to admire their persistence. I suppose Selyk also told you that almost the entire planet was once covered in water. The Federation spent millions of credits drying it out and reshaping it into a base."  
  
"Actually, I hadn't gotten that far." Selyk's dark eyes met his with startling intensity.  
  
"I understand that you're my sister's friend."  
  
"If that is how it pleases you to think of me. Certainly it is pleasing to my father-and yours, too, I suppose, or I would not be allowed on the premises as often as I am."  
  
"Lidia's up and about, if you've come to call on her. Go ahead in."  
  
"Actually, in this instance I came because Lidia sent me a message earlier this morning, telling me of your visit. It so happens that I have wanted to meet you for some time. I know what happened five years ago; Lidia told me some of it, and the rest I researched on my own. I must say that it took great courage to stand against the Federation the way you did."  
  
"More like foolhardiness. I found that out the hard way."  
  
The boy scowled. "Are you telling me that I would be a fool to share some of your-and Therov's-sentiments about the Federation?"  
  
"You can entertain any sentiments you like, Selyk, whether they reflect mine or not. What matters are your actions, particularly where my sister is concerned. That was something I wish I'd said to Therov five years ago. You can be sure that I feel even more strongly about it today."  
  
His answer displeased Selyk, who didn't bother to conceal his reaction. "I think I will just go and find Lidia," he said curtly. "Perhaps your mother will be good enough to offer me breakfast. I came away from my own house too quickly to replicate anything."  
  
"He has quite a temper for a Vulcan," Leila observed after he'd stalked away.  
  
"He's young yet. Besides, I can't throw stones in that direction, since plenty of people have said the same thing about me." He brushed his hand over the plant and made it murmur again. "If you like the plants here, I'd be happy to show you plenty others in their natural habitat. It would be good like to revisit some of my former haunts in daylight."  
  
"Of course. That sounds lovely."  
  
"Come on, then. We'll walk." They moved away from the house at a casual speed, though he glanced back more than once. "So what did my father want to quiz you about?"  
  
"He wanted to know about your life in the colony. He's actually proud of your accomplishments, you know."  
  
"He might have asked me directly, rather than gone to a perfect stranger for answers. I hope you didn't find his manner off-putting. Many people do."  
  
"Not at all. He is direct, but that was to be expected. And don't worry, I didn't tell him anything but what could be directly verified through colony records. Everything you've ever told me remains between us."  
  
"Still, the two of you had plenty to talk about. You were with him for some time."  
  
"Perhaps that surprises you because you and he have so little to say to one another."  
  
"I don't deny it." His eyes narrowed, but he let the matter drop.  
  
- - -  
  
The following day, Spock left for his office at the Embassy with some relief. Not surprisingly, his only private interview with his son had proven both abbreviated and unsatisfactory. They had agreed not to discuss the events of five years ago, inquiries about what Jarrod planned to do with his future seemed not merely premature, and any mention of Leila was potentially explosive. These restrictions left little else on which they could safely converse, so subsequent discourse was limited to his own general questions and Jarrod's monosyllabic responses. Clearly, true accord between them would require many more hours of negotiation.   
  
At least Leila had not returned to the house with him, sending instead an excuse about conducting some business on behalf of their fellow colonists. This show of discretion prompted Spock's approval, though he doubted she would stay away indefinitely.  
  
Meanwhile, the proposed Hrajillian entente demanded his attention. As an intensely private culture, they had submitted only a handful of cultural artifacts for Federation analysis. Among these were two books, primitively bound and reproduced, which his aides had been hard at work translating. Perusing both the originals and the appended notes, he was dismayed to find that the two volumes contained no factual exposition on Hrajillian customs or history, but were instead melodramatic fictions designed to entertain. Getting through them would be more of a chore than he had anticipated. Yet the interruption, when it came a few hours later, was one he did not welcome.  
  
Leila had not come empty-handed; the box of disks she set on the desk in front of him had clearly traveled a long, arduous, and somewhat dusty path.  
  
"Before I left Gamma Aurelius, some of the people there entrusted me with these data modules," she explained. "We're so far from the nearest Starbase that it can take months, even years, for them to get even the briefest messages to their loved ones. They were hoping that I could find a way to send them from here and expedite the process a little. I thought perhaps you knew where and how I could transmit them."  
  
Spock extracted one of the cartridges, wiped its surface, and examined it doubtfully. "Your technology on Gamma Aurelius is out of date. Modules of this type became obsolete almost a decade ago."  
  
"We use what we brought with us. Supply ships visit us infrequently, and they bring only necessities-or, occasionally, new colonists."  
  
Having completed his inspection of the module, he returned it to the box and stood. "I believe these can be converted to meet current standards. I will see that the contents are properly and securely transmitted."  
  
"If you don't mind, I'd like to have them back when you're finished. Perhaps any responses could be encoded back on the same disks. That way I can deliver the mail in person when I get home."  
  
"Of course. I will attend to it directly."  
  
"May I come with you?"  
  
He did not object, so she followed him down a spacious corridor to a room devoted to just the sort of operation her assignment required. Leila watched, impressed, as Spock crossed the room and entrusted the box of disks to an aide. The younger man listened intently to his orders and then hurried off to fulfill them.   
  
"You may be assured that the task will be carried out at once," Spock said when he returned to her side. "If and when there are further developments, I shall notify you."  
  
"Thank you," she said. He remained silent, apparently waiting for her to leave, a fact she decided to ignore. "There was just one other thing. I wondered if you might accompany me to lunch. I'm not familiar with the city, and Jarrod is eating at home with his mother. Since I'm technically your guest, and we still have some issues to discuss, I don't think that's an unreasonable request."  
  
Though he looked vaguely uncomfortable, Leila knew he could find no rational pretext for refusing. "Very well. If you are still vegetarian, I do know of an establishment that should suffice."  
  
"As a matter of fact, I am. Please-lead the way."  
  
He did. A short time later, they were settled at an outdoor table in the middle of a public square. With some amusement, Leila wondered if he had chosen this place to discourage even the possibility of an impulsive outburst on her side. If so, how little credit he gave her. The very young woman who had wept and begged for his love no longer existed. In her place was one who could control and direct her emotions as well as he could-maybe better. After all, she'd spent over thirty years preparing for this very conversation. He obviously had never even expected it to take place.  
  
She decided not to waste any time; he respected directness, she knew, and she was in no mood for polite but irrelevant prattle.  
  
"Why do you and your son not get along?" she asked as soon as the food had been served. Good, she thought; that certainly startled him.  
  
"It is my understanding that rebelliousness is a normal attribute of adolescent psychology. Admittedly he has carried it a bit further than most children do."  
  
"Do you think that's all it is? He told me once how you saved his life and his mother's. He said they could not have survived without you."  
  
"They might have survived without my intervention. In what condition, and for how long, it is impossible to say. However, I am surprised that he spoke of such matters to you. He has seldom even alluded to them in my presence."  
  
"As I told you, we are friends. That means we confide in one another. And now let me tell you something. It's just speculation, really. I believe that you think he is not sufficiently grateful for the life you have provided him."  
  
"A lack of gratitude is also quite common among the young. I seem to recall my own father expressing similar disappointment in me."  
  
"Well, I see it differently. I believe he feels that he is too much in your debt. After all, he tried to follow you into Starfleet, and failed. He tried to express himself through politics, and that literally blew up in his face. In my opinion, he is far more disappointed in himself than you could ever be in him."  
  
"Your theory is interesting, but misguided. I have never demanded that he emulate me. It would not be possible, in any case. He is more Sarpeid than Vulcan, and always has been."  
  
She nodded, sampling her food without really tasting it. "He is very like his mother. Maybe that's why I couldn't really dislike her, even though I expected to. She loves you madly-that would be obvious to any woman, but especially to me. And you can return that?"  
  
"She does not ask me to be what I am not."  
  
"And I did. You don't have to say it." A flicker of pain contorted her face for a moment. "Spock, do you remember when your ship evacuated our colony, and we had to travel with you for a few days, until you left us off at the Starbase?"  
  
His brows sank on his forehead. She noticed that he had not touched his own plate. "Of course I remember."  
  
"You avoided me while I was on board-I don't think we exchanged more than a dozen words after we left orbit. Still, whether you knew it or not, I kept track of where you went, what you did."  
  
"I did know it."  
  
"And did you know that I discovered where your quarters were, too? That last night we spent on the ship, I went there and stood outside your door for-well, I don't know, it felt like hours, though it probably was only a few minutes. I was trying to steel myself to summon you. When you answered, I was going to do everything in my power to talk my way inside. I was determined to spend the rest of that night with you. In the end, I didn't have the courage to try."  
  
He stared at her, saying nothing and revealing less. Leila was no longer even feigning an interest in the meal.   
  
"I can't help but wonder, even after all these years," she continued, her voice far less steady than she'd intended, "whether, if I'd been just a bit more reckless then, I might be the one living with you in that house today."  
  
At a table beside them, a group of Terrans laughed boisterously at a joke one of them had just told. The clamor made it impossible for either of them to say anything more for several minutes.   
  
"Leila," he finally said, "there is no point in speculating about such things."  
  
"No? I think there is. For a very long time, I convinced myself that you didn't care for me because you couldn't care for anyone. Now I find that you have married for love-while I never married at all."   
  
"Surely that was your own choice."  
  
"Not really. How could I choose a man who could never begin to measure up to you? And none of them did, or ever will. I know I shouldn't feel that way, but I do. There's no way either to deny or change that fact."  
  
His response caught her off guard. "Does that assessment include my son?"  
  
"Your son is a different situation. He's part of you, after all." Unable to meet his eyes, she gazed down into the rapidly congealing mass of vegetables and sauces on her plate. "We'll have to tell them now. Things have gone too far, just as you warned me. There can be no more pretending."  
  
"Agreed. I suggest we seize the earliest opportunity that presents itself."  
  
"Tonight. I need some time to find the words. Jarrod will be very upset, even angry. Do you think your wife will understand?"  
  
"She will understand that we tried to spare his pride. For that reason alone, I think she will excuse our actions."  
  
"I suppose. Spock-please tell me the truth. Do you ever regret choosing her?"  
  
He shook his head. "Never."  
  
"Fair enough. My disappointment was your good fortune-or hers, I should say."  
  
The conversation, like the meal, ended there, though it took a good deal longer for the bill to be delivered and then charged to Spock's standing account. In the meantime, they were forced to remain at the table, somewhat awkwardly avoiding each other.  
  
Most intriguing, decided Sumarr, who had been watching for some time from his own table in the corner. His lunch, too, had grown cold and unappetizing, but he considered a few wilted greens a small price to pay. Clearly, he had stumbled across more than an ordinary social call or a chance meeting at mealtime. The expression on the woman's face-so transparent, these humans-told him far more than he needed to guess.  
  
This information, he knew, could prove very useful when he presented his case to Selyk's potential father-in-law. A charge of hypocrisy, after all, could be an amazingly persuasive tool. 


	4. Part 4, Ch 4

Chapter 4  
  
"There's been a slight change of plan," Jarrod said when he arrived at her hotel room that evening as planned. He had taken great care with his appearance, she noticed; a new high-collared jacket, his normally mussed hair neatly brushed and flattened. "We're not having dinner here after all. Instead, we're going out."  
  
His suggestion, like his appearance, caught her completely off-guard. "But I-had wanted to speak with you tonight," she faltered, staring.  
  
"Don't worry about it. We can talk just fine at the Stargazer's Deck."   
  
"What is that, exactly?"  
  
"Only the most inspiring culinary experience Amphitrite has to offer. Suffice to say that I had to use a few of my diplomatic connections to get us a table."  
  
Leila felt a stab of panic. "Your parents aren't joining us, are they?"  
  
"Certainly not. So grab what you need and come on. Trust me, it will all be worth it."  
  
"But I'm nowhere near as nicely dressed as you are. I'll be completely out of place."  
  
"Don't be ridiculous. The only people we need to impress are one another." The genuine warmth in his smile filled her with fresh guilt. "And I'm always impressed by you."  
  
Long before they had even tasted the food, she understood the Stargazer's appeal. The restaurant itself hovered high above the city, its patrons boarding shuttlecrafts in a docking bay that doubled as a fully functional lounge. On the way up, the view was spectacular; from their table it was nothing less than majestic. Wistfully Leila recalled her long-ago sojourn on a starship, gazing out at an endless night and feeling as alone as the most distant star.  
  
The words slipped out before she could stop them. "Do your parents ever come here?"   
  
Jarrod scowled. "I suppose they've been here a few times over the past twenty years. Why do you keep asking about them What does it matter?"  
  
"I...I just didn't want to run into them tonight," she improvised.  
  
"Well, that makes two of us. But don't worry. I can almost guarantee you that they'll be staying in so they can discuss my bad behavior, which is just another reason I don't want to be there."  
  
"I'm sorry. Let's forget I mentioned it."  
  
"All right," he said with obvious relief. "This makes a nice change from communal dining, don't you think? The lack of privacy is one thing I don't miss about Gamma Aurelius."  
  
"Yes, this is lovely. Thank you for arranging it. I guess it will be hard to go back after enjoying so many luxuries."  
  
Jarrod poked at his food. "To tell you the truth, I've also been thinking about how things will be when we get back. We've become good friends, haven't we?"  
  
"Very good friends," she repeated uneasily. "You don't need to ask, surely."  
  
"I do have a reason. You see, I wonder: is there any chance that one day, you and I could become more that that to one another?"  
  
He met her eyes suddenly, his own gaze so intense that it startled her.  
  
"I don't know," she said when she finally found her voice again. "I can't, and won't deny, what I feel for you. But you know there are obstacles."  
  
"You're bringing up my parents again."  
  
"Yes, though perhaps not in the way you think. And, in case you hadn't noticed, there is a significant age difference between us as well."  
  
"Age difference be damned." Almost angrily he gulped what was left of his fruit drink. "You know what they say-youth is wasted on the young, not to mention overrated. Besides, if you want to be technical about it, I actually have a couple of millennia on you. I guess what I really want to know is if you will marry me."  
  
"Oh, Jarrod." Sadly, Leila reached out and covered his hand with hers. "Ask me that again in half an hour-after I tell you something I should have long ago."  
  
- - -  
  
In the privacy of the house's smallest sitting room, Spock faced his wife of almost twenty-five years with a determined expression. She met his dark stare evenly, but with obvious perplexity.  
  
"I feel like a junior embassy aide about to reprimanded for a clerical error."   
  
Spock shook his head. "That is not a duty I would attend to personally."  
  
"Oh. Of course not."  
  
As oblivious to her teasing as always, he began again. "Zarabeth, you will agree that there are many aspects of your past we have never discussed. It is my opinion that such matters have little relevance to our present circumstances, and the inquiries themselves could cause you unnecessary pain."  
  
"I suppose that's true. But you know I would gladly tell you anything."  
  
"Of that I have no doubt. Nonetheless, I have deliberately refrained from asking."  
  
"Well, what is it you want to know? I wouldn't blame you for questioning Jarrod's paternity, considering the way he's behaved, but you have to admit that the odds in your favor are overwhelming."  
  
"Obviously I am not making my purpose clear. It is not that I require information from you. Rather, I wish to impart some."  
  
She frowned at his unrelentingly serious tone. "Is it about Jarrod?"  
  
"In a manner of speaking. More specifically, it concerns myself, when I was approximately the age he is now."  
  
"And it's something I need to know about?"  
  
"Yes. 'Someone' might be more accurate. The event in question lies more than three decades in the past, but unlike any given incident from your history, this one may have significant consequences for the present."  
  
Zarabeth's eyes widened and then narrowed with sudden, terrible comprehension.  
  
"You're talking about Leila."  
  
"Yes. When I was still a junior officer with Starfleet, I briefly returned to the Academy as a condition of promotion. At the time, Miss Kalomi was completing a course of botanical study. Upon completing the program, she was to leave Earth with her fellow colonists; I was to return to active duty with Captain Pike. Before our departure, she implored me to resign my commission and accompany her instead. Naturally, I refused. Six years later, we met again. This time, conditions were a bit less . . . restrictive."   
  
"I see." Her voice, like her expression, had grown dazed. "And then?"  
  
"And then she departed for another colony. In the many years that followed, I have neither seen nor heard anything of her until now."  
  
"I believe that. I also believe that you've never been very far from her mind, no matter how many years have passed."  
  
Spock hesitated, then sighed. "Apparently that is so," he admitted.  
  
"Does Jarrod know?"  
  
"It is my understanding that Leila will tell him soon. Tonight, perhaps."  
  
"So that's why you're telling me."  
  
"It did seem best that the same information be simultaneously made available to everyone concerned. The initial discomfort should avert greater awkwardness later."  
  
"Discomfort? That's the only reaction you expect from either of us?"  
  
"I confess that I did anticipate a certain degree of irrationality to inform your response. I apologize if I have overestimated its influence."  
  
Zarabeth's outrage grew slowly but visibly. "I'm glad you've thought this through so carefully, but have you even considered what this will do to your son? We just got him back-now you're doing your best to drive him away again."  
  
"I fail to see why that should be the case."  
  
"You mean you haven't realized that he admires Leila just as much as you did-probably more? Perhaps it's some kind of genetic encoding. And do you really believe that she found her way here by accident?"  
  
"Have you any reason to doubt it?"  
  
"I have no reason not to! What other interest could she have in a man half her age? What else do they have in common?"  
  
"Perhaps it is you who underestimate his ability to accept what cannot be changed."  
  
Arms crossed, she paced the room. "I can hardly believe I'm hearing this. Why do I feel that I'm the only one looking out for his best interests?"  
  
"Zarabeth, he is no longer a child."  
  
"But he's our child. You know, from the beginning, even before I knew her name, I sensed that Leila was hiding something. It never occurred to me that you would do the same."  
  
- - -  
  
From across the table, he stared at her, dumbfounded.  
  
"You kept this from me all these months? Why, Leila?"  
  
"I think it's too late for me to do anything but apologize. And I am sorry, Jarrod. You were always so secretive about your past. By the time the details became clear to me, something else did, too: the extent to which I truly do care about you."  
  
"Only because I resemble my father."  
  
"No, that isn't true. Anyhow, you don't, not to the extent you believe. I admit I do see a bit of him in you-your stubbornness, for example, but you have many other qualities that are entirely your own."  
  
"I certainly do. Foolishness and gullibility are two that come to mind," he said miserably.  
  
"I was thinking more of your kindness, your empathy, and most importantly, your ability to love. I wouldn't associate any of those with your father. As much as I once loved him, I never did."  
  
"Then perhaps I simply inherited those from my mother. And are you suggesting that you no longer desire my father? Because the empathy you so generously attribute to me provides a different impression."  
  
"Don't be absurd. It's been more than thirty years since I've even seen him. How could I feel anything except the most distant affection?"  
  
"It doesn't strike me as impossible at all. I believe that if you went away, and I heard nothing of you for twice that long, you could still return to find my devotion to you unchanged. That is why it hurt so deeply to find out that you cannot return it."  
  
"You're wrong." Her fingers found his again, clutching more tightly when he tried to pull away. "All right, I confess that when I first realized who you were, I sometimes looked at you and saw him. It was what I wanted at the time. But slowly, that changed. Now it's actually the other way around. When I do look carefully at him-and I have, I won't deny it-it's you I begin to think about. Not what's past, but what might happen in the future."  
  
Jaw clenched, he pushed back from the table and stood up. "Please stay and finish; I'll take care of the charges before I leave. However, I think this dinner is at an end."  
  
"Just the dinner?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
Her first impulse, when he got up and strode quickly away from the table, was to go after him. Almost immediately she thought better of it. Nothing would be accomplished until he'd had time to reflect on things and hopefully calm down. Reluctantly, she forced herself to wait until the next shuttle arrived for a fresh complement of satisfied diners.  
Back at the hotel, she went directly to Jarrod's room and buzzed his door-once, then again. Getting no answer, she was about to step away when she heard someone come up behind her.   
  
"I've come to see my son," Zarabeth said. Her voice, like her face, was harder than stone.  
  
"He doesn't seem to be here. At least, he's not answering the door."  
  
"Is there any reason he wouldn't?"  
  
Leila shrugged uneasily. "Maybe he needed some time by himself."   
  
"I know the feeling."  
  
"You came here alone?"  
  
"It's been a long time since I was under house arrest. These days, I'm as capable of hailing ground transport as anyone else. Besides, the Embassy provides it whenever we want, and I thought it would do my husband a world of good to look after his children for one evening." Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "I suppose you were hoping to see him with me?"  
  
Understanding dawned quickly but uncomfortably. "You and Spock must have talked earlier."  
  
"I take it you and Jarrod did, too."  
  
"Well-yes. I'm sorry things happened the way they did. My intention was never to offend you."  
  
"That isn't really the word I would use."  
  
"Frankly, I don't see why you should resent me, either. You're the one he chose. I admit that part of me hoped I would find him as indifferent to you as he once was to me, but that clearly is not the case. Does it really provoke you that much to discover that you weren't the first as well as the last?"  
  
"What provokes me is that you have manipulated both me and my son. What did you think would happen once he discovered the real reason you've been so attentive to him? And you must have known he would."  
  
"And if I had told him, all those months ago when he first settled on Gamma Aurelius, where do you think he would be now? Here, with me-and with you? Or running away from someone with an incentive to report his whereabouts to his father?"  
  
As she'd expected, Zarabeth had no ready answer to that. "Actually, we don't know where he is at the moment, do we? I can promise you that we won't find him unless he wants to be found. He has plenty of hiding places. I still haven't discovered the ones he used as a child." Suddenly her scowl deepened. "Is my son in love with you?"  
  
"How strange that you should ask about his feelings, and not my own."  
  
"Maybe I don't trust you to tell me the truth. Or maybe I'm only asking what I know I can handle. To be perfectly honest, even I'm not sure which."   
  
"Well, as far as Jarrod is concerned, you'll just have to ask him. The same goes for Spock."  
  
"I might. Let me warn you, though, not to wait too impatiently for their answers. Whatever they might say, I won't give either of them up."  
  
Leila sighed. "I haven't asked you to."  
  
"Very well. I suppose I'll go home, then. If you see Jarrod, please tell him I was here."   
  
"Of course."  
  
Zarabeth felt Leila's eyes burning into her as she retreated to the lift. During the ride to the ground floor, some of her anger began to fade. It would have been easier to detest Leila if she'd been smug or even defensive; instead, she'd come across as resigned, almost defeated. Certainly she'd made one valid point: Jarrod would certainly have fled again, perhaps to a point so far away that his return would be not only delayed, but impossible. For the moment, at least, he was within arm's reach-and he hadn't been forced to travel alone.  
  
Outside the hotel, the city streets were busy with tourists and off-duty Starfleet personnel sampling various evening entertainments. For good measure, but without any real expectation of success, Zarabeth scanned each group of passers-by for a glimpse of her son. He didn't appear, but another familiar figure did.  
  
"You are well-met, madam." Sumarr had come from the general direction of the Embassy School. "I was about to seek conveyance to your house. Perhaps we might ride there together."  
  
She gave him a quizzical look. "We can use Embassy transport, but I'm sorry-were we expecting you?"  
  
"In a manner of speaking. I was on my way to collect my son. Lidia invited him to dinner."  
  
"Oh, I see." Secretly, she was glad Spock had had an additional guest to deal with. The man had commanded a starship; surely feeding dinner to a group of youngsters was not beyond his capabilities. "I'm afraid I didn't spend the evening at home."  
  
"How irregular." Sumarr stole a discreet glance at the hotel behind them. "Pleasant circumstances, I hope, called you away?"  
  
"I would call it more a matter of duty."  
  
"A constant care for someone in your position, no doubt. I can only express my admiration for the proficiency with which you manage your household. I trust your husband appreciates your talents equally."  
  
The way he said it, casually but with a peculiar emphasis on selected syllables, made her pause and study him.   
  
"I have no reason to doubt it."  
  
"He would never tell you so in words, of course." Sumarr looked almost wistful for a moment. "It cannot be easy, sharing one's life with a Vulcan. Well I know how exasperating we can be."  
  
Just then, the Embassy ground speeder pulled up and hovered patiently while they stepped inside and settled into their seats.  
  
"Please don't be affronted by my directness," he said when she didn't reply. "I confide in you only as the friend I hope you consider me."  
  
"I suppose there's some truth in what you say," she answered after a few minutes. "But I also know that life would be much harder without him. Maybe impossible."  
  
His voice was honey-smooth with sympathy. "Of course."  
  
Their attention drifted to the windows of the land-craft and soon became fixed on the blur of city lights around them.  
  
"Isn't it interesting the way strangers come into our lives," Sumarr reflected, as though his attention had drifted far away. "Most of them create little more than a temporary ripple, some make a lasting impression, and a very few have the power to disrupt even the most tranquil aspects of our existence."  
  
Uneasily, Zarabeth began to wonder if he was speaking strictly in the abstract. For some reason, his subtle interest in the hotel, to say nothing of his inquiries into more personal matters, suggested that his musings had a specific purpose. Whether his remark about strangers referred to Leila, himself, both of them, or neither, remained to be seen. For the moment, therefore, she said nothing.   
  
Back at the house, they found that Spock had deputized Lidia, who was clearing the dinner table while in the next room, Kai was soundly trouncing Selyk at three-dimensional chess. When he saw his father enter, Selyk reached out and toppled his own king with a look of disgust.   
  
"It is a lack of patience, not skill, that keeps you from winning," Sumarr chided him.  
  
"I could easily have won," Selyk shot back. "I was simply indulging Lidia's brother-and besides, I knew you'd arrive at any moment."  
  
His father, clearly disbelieving his explanation, occupied himself with his usual courtly farewells and promptly ushered the boy from the house. Frankly relieved at their departure, Zarabeth moved into the next room to help Lidia insert the dishes into the sonic cleaner and then replace them in the overhead bins.  
  
"Did your father join you at the table?" she asked, attempting to sound casual.   
  
"Briefly, but then he went to the study to continue his Hrajillian research. Some kind of summit with them tomorrow, apparently. That was some time ago. He probably wouldn't mind if you interrupted him just to say you were back."  
  
"Not just yet."  
  
"As you wish." Lidia eyed her mother suspiciously. "How strange that you and Selyk's father happened to encounter each other just as he was on his way here."  
  
"Not really. Jarrod's hotel is quite near your school. Sumarr was probably attending-or giving-a night lecture. There were quite a few people about."  
  
"And what did you talk about on the way over?"  
  
"I can honestly say I'm not sure. Not you and Selyk, if that's what you're worried about."  
  
"I find it hard to believe you would have much else in common."  
  
"Well, young lady, perhaps you don't know as much as you think you do about either of us. If it comes to that, I don't really see what interests you about Selyk. His manners certainly leave much to be desired, especially for a Vulcan."  
  
"It's true he isn't much like Father-but then I suppose Professor Sumarr isn't, either." Lidia raised a haughty brow and tossed the last dish into the cleaning slot. "And now I'm going up to my room. I've already let Kai humiliate me twice this evening, so I'd say it's your turn. See? He's already laying a trap for you, the little predator."  
  
Together they glanced through the open doorway. Kai was still in front of the chessboard, moving the pieces from one level to the next and then replacing them in their original positions. Every few moments he would lean back and murmur to himself as if memorizing the configurations that pleased him most.   
  
"What makes you so sure I can't beat him? The last time we played, I took one game and managed a stalemate on the next."  
  
"Really, Mother." Lidia rolled her eyes. "Didn't you realize that he was just humoring you? Father is the only one who can outplay him, and that's likely enough to change one of these days. By all means, though, go ahead and take your chances. Good night."  
  
After Lidia had gone, Zarabeth forced herself to walk into the next room. Her younger son looked up at her calmly, balancing a white chess piece in his left hand and a black one in his right.  
  
"Would you care to play, Mother? Lidia's friend Selyk proved a most unsatisfactory opponent. I believe he even cheated after his third move."  
  
Her first impulse was to refuse him gently, but his hopeful expression made her stop. A wave of affection for this highly serious child, whose ways were so strange and yet so undeniably familiar, suddenly lightened her mood.  
  
"Very well. I'm too tired to play my best game tonight, but I promise you I won't cheat."  
  
Kai nodded and began to arrange the pieces. "Those terms are acceptable."  
  
If anything, she managed her side of the board with even less patience, and only slightly more efficiency, than Selyk had. Oddly enough, her rapidly decimated forces seemed to elude defeat again and again.   
  
"Kai," she finally said, fixing him with a stern gaze, "are you letting me win?"  
  
"I'm trying, Mother, but you're making it difficult."   
  
"You don't have to do that. Besides, I thought you disapproved of cheating."  
  
"Playing poorly is not the same as cheating. However, if you insist." Sighing, he released the pawn he'd about to move, chose his bishop instead, and easily set up a checkmate he put into effect on his next move. "May I go up to my room now?" he asked, squirming self-consciously.  
  
"Yes. From now on, I want you to compete against me just as you would anyone else-including your father. Either that, or allow Lidia to beat you once in a while."  
  
"Understood. You may expect a more difficult contest next time."  
  
"I'll look forward to it." That was an exaggeration, certainly, but no doubt she could find an instructional book or disc somewhere in the house. After Kai had gone off to bed, she spent some time tinkering with the board, rearranging the pieces and scrutinizing those last few disastrous moves. One thing she was determined not to do was request instruction from Spock.  
  
Eventually, the hour grew late and the cumulative effect of an exhausting day got the better of her concentration. After clearing away the chessboard and making the usual nighttime rounds of the house, she steeled herself and entered her own bedroom.  
  
Spock was already there, leaning against the pillows with the bound Hrajillian volume and the translation device open on his lap. Though he looked up when she came in, she studiously ignored him and went directly into the washroom. By the time she returned in her nightclothes, with her hair done up in an angry knot, he'd closed the book and put it away. All the same, she took no notice, but arranged herself on the very edge of the mattress with her back to him.  
  
"I considered spending the night in Adonia's room," she informed him stiffly, "but I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep."  
  
"That would rather defeat the purpose of going to bed at all."  
  
"I'm glad you see it my way. Incidentally, you missed Sumarr. He came to collect his son while you were reading. We had an interesting conversation."  
  
"On what subject?"  
  
"I'm not sure, but I think he was giving me an alternative to forgiving you."  
  
"I see. And will you take it?"  
  
"I must admit, I was tempted to make you think so, at least for a while, But you know how anger is-it tends to flash and fade. Mine is no different from anyone else's."  
  
"My observations would suggest that you are correct."  
  
"So. . . how is your Hrajillian research going?"  
  
"I find them most paradoxical. Despite their obvious intelligence, they are given to bursts of hyperemotionalism that border on the melodramatic. And, though no outsider would detect even the slightest cause for insecurity, they persist in viewing their own social position as highly unstable. Quite puzzling."  
  
"In other words, the kind of people I'd feel very much at home with." Since she was still facing away from him, he couldn't see her biting back an amused smile. "Spock, what are we going to do about Jarrod?"  
  
"Perhaps the wisest course would be to wait until his emotions follow their inevitable course-flash and fade, as you put it."  
  
"His anger toward us-or toward you, I should say-probably will. When it comes to Leila, I have to admit that I'm not so sure. There's a sound in his voice when he talks about her, a certain expression that comes over his face. As much as I'd prefer to see her simply pack up her things and vanish from our lives, I don't think that's going to happen anytime soon. You might just end up with a closer connection to her than you ever thought possible."  
  
He stopped and pondered this. Long before he had formulated any reasonable answer, he heard her breathing slow and deepen, signifying the onset of sleep. Later still, when his ultrasensitive auditory capabilities detected footsteps on the terrace, she had drifted off so completely that even his getting up failed to rouse her.  
  
He wasn't in the least surprised to find Jarrod leaning over the stone rail, looking expensively attired but physically disheveled.   
  
"It's true-I've spent most of the night indulging the Sarpeid side of my nature," he said calmly, not bothering to turn. "You know, it's true what Mother always says about our hot blood and passionate hearts. Please, don't bother to express your disapproval."  
  
Spock folded his arms. "Even the most vigorous display of negative emotions will not undo events that transpired more than three decades ago."  
  
"As it happens, I agree with you. Giving in to raw, blistering anger felt better for a while, but when it passed, everything was the same again."  
  
"That is consistent with all known rational principles."  
  
After a moment, Jarrod hooked one arm around the rail and swung fully around to stare at his father.   
  
"Do you know what really would satisfy me? To be able to do something on my own for once, without being compared to you. I felt that way the entire time I was growing up here; it was even worse when I got to Starfleet. Finally I get to Gamma Aurelius, halfway across the sector, and even the woman I love would prefer to have you, though I spend every day trying to make her happy, while you haven't given her a single thought in over thirty years."  
  
"That is not precisely accurate. My memories of Leila have surfaced from time to time, in spite of the fact that I do not speak of them."  
  
"Oh?" Jarrod's brows shot up in a perfect imitation of his father. "Does Mother know that?"  
  
"She does now."  
  
"Well, I won't ask you about that. Just tell me she's not divorcing you. That would make my situation infinitely more difficult."  
  
"Not to my knowledge."  
  
Presently Jarrod's expression crumpled into a scowl again. "Father, I must ask you: did you never consider marrying Leila? After all, she spent six years pining for you the first time you met, and many more after that. I'm sure she would have accepted you as eagerly as Mother did."  
  
"I believe it was clear to Leila, as it was to me, that obligations on both sides prevented any permanent arrangement between us. As for your second contention, it so happens that your mother refused my original proposal."  
  
Jarrod suddenly became much more interested. "Really? I never knew that."  
  
"Apparently, the manner in which I phrased my offer proved unacceptable to her. As I have often asserted, there is no accounting for the responses of emotional beings."  
  
"So what happened?"  
  
"I amended my words." Spock observed his son for a moment. "If I might proffer a suggestion."  
  
"Sure, why not? You obviously know both of them better than I do."   
  
"From what I infer, you are concerned that Miss Kalomi does not value you as an individual. Perhaps you might convey this information more efficiently by demonstrating your unique qualities instead of simply asserting that they exist."  
  
Jarrod nodded grimly. "As opposed to complaining about you and then blaming her for not agreeing. Yes, I suppose there's some logic in that."  
  
"I am gratified that you think so. Perhaps you are not entirely governed by your Sarpeid qualities after all."  
  
"Speaking of that, hadn't you better go back in? Mother might think you were out here trysting with Leila. Anyhow, it is getting late-before long I'll be saying 'early.' Should I come back at a more reasonable hour? Just to visit-not to make demands."  
  
"Your mother would welcome that. As would I."  
  
"What about Leila? Is she also invited?"  
  
"If the two of you would care to discuss your botanical work on Gamma Aurelius, I would not be averse to hearing about it. Miss Kalomi knows that I have always respected her as a scientist."  
  
"In case she's forgotten, then, I'll let her know. Goodnight, Father."   
  
Hoisting himself back over the rail, Jarrod casually dropped into the garden and slipped away among the shadows. Spock could only shake his head in discomfiture: even dressed in formal evening wear, his son preferred to clamber through the shrubs like a primate rather than choose a more conventional point of egress. Then again, as Jarrod himself had pointed out, to some extent his imprudent, iconoclastic behavior was a matter of genetics, not choice.   
  
Ironically, the unpredictability of both his wife and his eldest son had become almost predictable to him. It was not logical, but by now it was familiar, and he had to admit that it kept his mind fresh. Besides, the more subdued natures of Lidia and Kai contributed a sense of balance to the household. That could, he decided, prove fortunate if Jarrod decided to return for an extended period. How Leila's presence would affect this same balance, should she choose to remain also, had yet to be determined.  
  
Zarabeth was awake again when he returned to their room.   
  
"You may reassure yourself on Jarrod's account," Spock informed her. "He is safe, and will return tomorrow to discuss the current situation."  
  
"Thank you for talking to him. I'm sure he wasn't in the mood to listen, any more than I was."  
  
Spock got back into bed and folded his hands over the blankets. "As I reminded you earlier, he is no longer a child. I believe we came to an understanding."  
  
"I'm glad. Now I suppose we should do the same. Incidentally, did you tell Kai to let me win at chess?"  
  
"I merely explained to him that certain concessions can ease the strain of coexisting with emotional beings. I did not suggest any specific application."  
  
"Well, I put a stop to it, anyway. You probably meant well, but the only thing worse than being outwitted by smug little Vulcans is receiving their charity . . . or concessions, as you put it."   
  
She slid back down under the covers, almost imperceptibly edging toward him.   
  
"I need to know something else, too," she said after a few minutes. Clearly, she was not speaking of chess games any longer. "That you never see Leila when you look at me."  
  
He spared her an offended look. "Although it is true that I am approaching my seventieth year, I am unaware that I suffer from any ocular impairment. I might also remind you that there is a substantial difference between being the first and being the only one."  
  
Cautiously, he eased the knot out of her hair; when it finally came loose, Zarabeth shook it free and let the soft reddish wave settle loosely around her shoulders.   
  
- - -  
  
Thankfully, the fifth time Leila went to his hotel room, she found that he'd returned at last. Relief turned to apprehension when she saw his traveling bag open on the bed with various articles of clothing scattered around it.  
  
"Is this how you react to every problem? Pack up and leave?"  
  
Jarrod glared at her, arms folded. "It seems to work as well as anything."  
  
"I doubt even you believe that. Your mother was here, by the way. She was worried about you, and so was I."  
  
"I find that strangely appropriate. After all, you could have been my mother, had things been different for you all those years ago."  
  
"But they didn't. You have a mother. Your father has a wife. And here I am, an entirely different person to the one I was then. Maybe I didn't even realize that until tonight."  
  
"Well, I'm glad I helped you figure that out." Jaw clenched, he started to turn from her and head toward the window at the back of the room. Grasping his hand, she pulled him back.  
  
"I take it you're not going to ask me that question again?"  
  
"Just now, I don't know. I really don't."  
  
"It's all right. I understand. Anyhow, you're probably too young to be a husband."  
  
"Are we back to that age difference thing again? I told you, I don't care about that. You and I have other issues to work out."  
  
"There's no denying that, it's true. But I still hope we can begin to sort through them together. I'd like you to come back to Gamma Aurelius-if not with me, then when you're ready. After all, we have our botanical samples to tend. You helped me graft them. It would be a shame if you weren't there when they sprouted."  
  
"So if we can cultivate something together - and it grows - we'll be on the right track. Is that what you think?"  
  
"Sort of. It would be a start, anyhow."  
  
Pushing the travel bag and a heap of clothes to one side, he sat on the bed with a sigh. "I've been wondering . . . what would I have been like if I had been yours instead of hers?"  
  
"I can almost guarantee you'd be a botanist, and a damn good one at that." Leila sat beside him, then moved a little closer when he didn't object. "And I wouldn't have allowed you to drop out of Starfleet. I'd have marched you back at phaserpoint."  
  
Jarrod shrugged. "I guess my parents weren't especially strict with me, now that I look back on it. I must have tried their patience as much as they've tried mine."  
  
"You probably can't help it. My scientific instincts tell me that you're carrying a pretty volatile blend of DNA. But you know, you are a little more Vulcan than you give yourself credit for."  
  
He squinted at her. "What makes you say that?"  
  
"Well, you were prepared to marry me before we'd even kissed. In anyone else, that might be considered extraordinarily rash. After all, what if you didn't like it?"  
  
"It's safe to say that I probably would have. Besides, I'd thought of that. My original plan wasn't just to ask you to marry me. I was also going to invite you to share my hotel room tonight." Leila watched as he unsuccessfully tried to fight back a blush. "When the time came, I didn't quite have the nerve."  
  
"Were you afraid I'd say no?"  
  
The blush deepened. "I was almost more afraid you'd say yes. You see, Leila, I have to admit that I've never . . . well, maybe that's enough said."  
  
"Never?" Her eyes widened in amazement.  
  
Jarrod swallowed hard, painfully. "The women at Starfleet Academy were a little too serious for me. And since then, I just never had the time-or the inclination, until I met you."  
  
"I see." They sat in silence for a while, Jarrod staring at the floor and Leila gazing straight ahead. Their mutual nervousness crackled between them like a current in the air.  
  
"If it's any consolation," she said finally, "it's been a long time for me, too. A very long time."  
  
"I won't ask you how my father fits into that particular chronology."  
  
"That's a good thing, because I wouldn't answer you. Please, Jarrod, let go of that. I've had to. Your father obviously has. If my previous connection with him brought us together, isn't that all to the good?" Her fingers curled around his again and squeezed them. "It hurts me, too, to know that you're constantly comparing yourself to him. You are your own man, Jarrod. And you're a man I care about very much."  
  
Slowly, he worked his hands free and trailed them upwards instead, past her wrists and then onto her forearms. "There's certainly one major difference between us," he murmured. "I can't say I'm sorry that my father let you go, for reasons that should be self-evident, but I don't plan to be as big a fool as he once was."  
  
With that, gratefully, he put all thoughts of his parents out of his mind and gave Leila his full attention.  
  
- - -  
  
When Sumarr returned to the house the following evening, he registered obvious surprise at seeing Leila casually integrated with the others, obviously having stayed for dinner and then friendly conversation. Nonetheless, he did not waver from his purpose, but requested an immediate and private audience with Spock.  
  
In the study, the two scrutinized each other with mutual and blatant mistrust.  
  
"I will move directly to the point," Sumarr began. "I have recently become aware that it is my son's wish to be joined with your daughter, Lidia, when they come of suitable age. I have come to ask if you have any objections, and to make a formal inquiry into matters of dowry and contract."  
  
"I shall save you some time in that case. Under no circumstances would I ever agree even to consider such a union."  
  
"You seem most adamant. May I ask why?" "I have a number of reasons, none of which I consider myself obligated to explain to you. Perhaps it would suffice to say that joining you describe would have no validity as a Vulcan custom. After all, you and your son are Romulans."  
  
For a moment, Sumarr looked as though he had forgotten to breathe. His fingers tightened on his chair arms, his brows climbed halfway up his narrow forehead, and the tip of his tongue skittered across his lower lip. Gradually, though, he seemed to regain control of himself.   
  
"I admit I made a mistake about the K'aaroch bark; I looked it up when I returned home and cursed myself. But that was a minor slip. How did you know?"  
  
"Simple observation, for the most part. Despite what I assume are cosmetic alterations to both yourself and your son, you both retain the essence of the Romulan constitution. Your son is disrespectful, anti-intellectual, and uncivilized. You, though you admittedly have a gift for teaching, are far too interested in matters that do not concern you. No Vulcan would have spoken to my wife as you did last night. Your only motivation was to benefit yourself, and that is also in keeping with what I know of Romulan behavior."  
  
"Possibly I overstepped my bounds by involving myself in your-affairs, Ambassador." Relaxing, Sumarr leaned back and spread his lips in a wide smile. "However, I have always found it difficult not to speak my mind when I feel strongly about something. Who knows? There may even be genuine Vulcans who share the same failing."  
  
"Thank you for not concocting a denial that would insult us both."  
  
"There is no point; you are correct, and you know it. Will you give me the opportunity to explain?" When Spock nodded, Sumarr rose and began to pace the room. "It is true that these many years, my son and I have presented ourselves as Vulcans-though not without the knowledge and consent of a few key members of Starfleet."  
  
"You are a defector, then."  
  
"A defector of a very high order. On my homeworld, I attained a position of some eminence in our government. I was well satisfied with my career as well as my family, for I had a wife who was as devoted to me as yours is to you. I felt the same toward her. Unfortunately, my fellow council members were less interested in my happiness as they were my conformity. The punishment for my political transgressions was the assassination of my wife. My son would have been the next target; before that could happen, I escaped to what I hoped would be a more congenial atmosphere in which to raise him."  
  
"That was when you contacted the Federation." Sumarr nodded. His jaw was clenched, his eyes brighter than usual. While he spoke, he clenched and unclenched a fist. "My instincts proved correct. In exchange for sensitive information about my former people, Starfleet was willing to furnish me with a new identity, even a vocation. Masquerading as a Vulcan was a natural choice, especially since I had entertained a lifelong interest in your planet's language and literature. Continuing my studies soon became a matter of survival, rather than amusement. Fortunately, I had incentive. Selyk-as I began to call him then-was the only thing I had left."  
  
"I see." Spock followed his guest to his feet. His voice, along with his expression, had softened. "I sympathize with your dilemma. The choice to betray your people cannot have been easy."  
  
"Actually, it was surprisingly easy, once I saw how little regard my own people had for me. Were I ever to return, I would instantly be killed as a traitor. So you see, I am no longer a Romulan in any genuine sense of the word. Nor is my son too much a Romulan to become engaged to your daughter. After all, what pureblooded Vulcan would have either of them? You are half human, and your wife has no home planet at all. It seems to me that a match between them would resolve many issues that disturb us both."  
  
"My decision on that score is unchanged. You are mistaken if you think that I can or would order Lidia into any such arrangement. Personal experience suggests that arranged marriages are less than desirable in some situations."  
  
Sumarr's smile returned. "Then trouble yourself no further on that score. It is my understanding that your daughter is in favor of the match. She and my son have apparently reached a certain...understanding."  
  
"That is of no consequence. She is young and will almost certainly change her mind."  
  
"My son is also of tender years just yet. But is that not to our advantage? Perhaps one day, Spock, our two worlds, so long at odds, will find their way back to one another. Perhaps my son and your daughter will pave the way. And if, or when, that time comes, you and I may not be too old to do our parts."   
  
Seeing that Spock remained unmoved, he laughed-a jarring, discordant sound, in his host's opinion.  
  
"But let us speak of it no further just now," Sumarr decided cheerfully. "You are anxious to rejoin your family, and your charming visitor. And, as I said before, I have lectures to prepare."  
  
- - - -  
  
Coming this winter: Part 5 


End file.
